“It’ll be at the terminal at eleven a.m. Clay’ll be coming up with you. And also Ken and Beth Squires. Beth is our medic. Ken’s her husband. He’s our PR guy. He’s a historian, and he tells me he’s going to be writing a book about this mission. But the real reason I wanted him along, other than that we also needed Beth, is that he’s the best linguist I know. The guy speaks a half dozen languages. If we actually meet someone we have to learn to talk to, he’ll be just the guy to have on board.” He laughed, trying to turn it into a joke.

•  •  •

She called Tom. “I was afraid you’d left,” he said.

“I was in South Jersey.”

“I remember when that used to sound far away. Priscilla, are you available for lunch?”

They met at Larry’s again. And it was exactly what Hutch needed: leisure time with a friend, pizza, nobody trying to talk her into anything, and of course her commlink turned off.

“When does your promotion take effect?” she asked.

“Friday. This is my last week on the beat. I’d have enjoyed having you around to help me celebrate.”

“I wish I could be, Tom. Everything’s seriously busy right now. Maybe when I get home?”

“By then, I may be a lieutenant.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised.” She sat chewing on the pizza, wanting to tell him about the president. But she knew how that would end. “It’s good,” she said.

“There’s no such thing as pizza that isn’t.”

President Proctor was at her right hand, sipping Coke, staring at her. There’s still time to back off. To do the right thing. What would her father have said if he’d lived to see this day? He’d been a naval officer at the start of his career. And protecting the NAU had been the consummate responsibility of every citizen. He’d have been horrified at what she was doing. The guy who, himself, had devoted his life to listening for signals from the sky.

“Priscilla,” said Tom, “what’s wrong?”

And she let go. She told him everything, what the president said, how she’d felt, and her own inability to come to a decision.

“But you have decided, right?”

“Yes.”

Her voice went so low, he couldn’t understand. “Say again, please.”

“Yes, I’ve made up my mind.”

“Well, I’m glad. Having you back away from that damned thing is the best news I can think of.”

“I’m not backing away, Tom.”

“You mean you’re going? After the president asked you not to?”

“Yes. I’m going.”

“You can’t do that. The president’s asked you to stop. You can’t disobey her.”

“She doesn’t have the authority to give me orders.”

He stared at her, stunned. “Priscilla, please. You’ll regret it the rest of your life.”